


After the Thunder and Scars

by AzulDemon



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Panic Attacks, a wee bit of angst, and pining, but mostly good stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzulDemon/pseuds/AzulDemon
Summary: Clay and Tony had always been friends.  But something had changed between them over the last year.  When the tapes happened things had gotten weird between the two of them, more intense.  But they had come through the other side together, both of them transformed and sharing something that so few could even begin to understand.  Through it all Clay had really come to think of Tony as his best friend.  In some ways Tony had become one of the most constant things in his life, something orienting, his Polaris in the night sky.In which Clay and Tony learn how to live.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well...this happened...I have no idea...I started watching this show with absolutely zero belief that I'd come out shipping anyone (outside maybe Hannah and Clay) because this is a show about some heavy shit. And then Clay and Tony happened...because seriously, look at them! Anyways, this is the result. Not sure what else to say.
> 
> Warnings: There are some very minor references to suicide and the aftermath thereof. If you've seen the show or even heard about it, you know what kind of content we're dealing with. Although that is most definitely not the focus of this fic.
> 
> I don't own the characters or the world. This is just me coping.
> 
> Feedback and comments are always enjoyed.

The sun was just beginning its lazy descent in the sky, casting everything in cozy, sepia hues of honeyed amber and simmering orange.  A cool breeze flitted through the city, gently chasing away the tepid warmth of the day.  Summer was coming to an end and Clay Jensen was alive.   

Well, sort of…   

He was alive in the general sense.  He was breathing.  All his major organs were functioning in accordance with their assigned biological designations.  All systems online.  He'd even gotten back into something of a routine.  Life goes on.  He'd once railed against that like an angry jungle cat but the world didn't stop for you, no matter how angry you were.  Routine and the ebb and flow of life had snuck up on him without him even noticing.  It was a subtle, insidious thing and it had already snared him by the time he had thought to look.   

So yeah, Clay was alive…well maybe he wasn't exactly _living._   Going about the day-to-day grind was _not_ living.  So perhaps it was more accurate to say that Clay was _surviving_.

 _And survival is insufficient..._ He sighed at his own dramatics.  _Thanks, Seven of Nine._  

Clay was _way_ more of a Star Wars fan but he wasn't such a fanatic that he hated Star Trek on principal.  There was some good stuff there.

So he was trying to live again.  However he could.  Just like Tony had said.  For Hannah.    

That's why he had gone to visit his grandparents like his parents had suggested.  Because he actually liked being around his grandparents unlike most of his contemporaries.  And because it felt like it was a reset.  It was a break from streets and doorways where he still saw Hannah looking at him.  It was a break from the whisper of her voice or the soft, floral scent of her hair.  It was a break from his schoolmates, the media coverage, and the lawyers.   

As he and his parents pulled into the driveway he looked at his house.  He took in the tree lined street.  He never just looked at it.  He never just took it in.  Another thing he had taken for granted.  He realized that despite everything that had happened, despite all the insanity, he actually missed this place.  It was still home, a home inhabited by the ghost of Hannah Baker, but home nonetheless.

"So, what are you going to do with the rest of your evening?"  His mother asked as she climbed out of the passenger side of the car.  

Clay found he only had one answer for that.  He didn't even have to think about it.  It was surprising but it honestly shouldn’t have been.  

"I think I'll go see Tony." 

He missed Tony.  He and Tony had always been friends.  But something had changed between them over the last year.  When the tapes happened things had gotten weird between the two of them, more intense.  So many emotions had been wrapped up in Tony at that time: suspicion, anger, jealousy, security.  Tony had been so fucking, persistently cryptic yet such a stabilizing—and sometimes, downright life saving—factor in his life.  For his part, Clay had at times been straight up mean to him using him as a convenient scapegoat for everything the tapes were doing to him.  But they had come through the other side together, both of them transformed and sharing something that so few could even begin to understand.  Through it all Clay had really come to think of Tony as his best friend.  In some ways Tony had become one of the most constant things in his life, something orienting, his Polaris in the night sky.

"You going to be home for dinner?"  His mother followed up. 

"Dunno," Clay replied from inside the trunk as he pulled out his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.  

He ran up to his room and tossed the bag onto the floor near his bed and left it to be dealt with later.  The prospect of seeing Tony after being gone a month was becoming more and more exciting.  They'd texted and FaceTime'd while Clay was gone but those things definitely left out some of Tony's...Tonyness?

Clay got to the top stares and realized he was forgetting something and ran back to his bag.  He knelt in front of it to riffle through its pockets and pulled free a package wrapped in crisp, nondescript, brown paper.  He grinned and was back on his way. 

"Text us about dinner!"  His dad yelled as Clay rushed passed him and went straight through the front door. 

"Will do!"  Clay called back over his shoulder. 

He tucked the package into the waist of his jeans against the small of his back and hopped onto his bike.   

He opted to go without a helmet and let the wind flow through his hair and past his ears.  He smiled up at the sky.  He honestly hadn't expected it to feel so good to be back.  It was senior year and he was going to do his damnedest to make it a good year.  He took a breath and tried to let the shame over feeling anything hopeful or optimistic flow by.   

 _You're allowed to feel good things._   He reminded himself. 

Living, as it turned out, was a work in progress.

***

_“Clay get’s back today.”  Skye noted as she handed Tony his mug of coffee._

_“Yeah, I know.”  Tony kept his voice even._

_Tony Padilla had many skills and keeping his emotions in check was one of them._

_Skye rolled her eyes like she still somehow managed to see it all anyway.  Sometimes, despite his dismissal, Tony really did believe that she was some kind of bruja.  That set all kinds of culturally-engrained, Catholic alarm bells ringing in his brain in spite of his healthy respect for the things the Catholic church tended to get wrong._

_“What do the two of you got planned for this evening?”  She pressed._

_“Nothing.”  Tony replied a little too quickly.  “I got some work to do on my car tonight.  That’s all.”_

_Skye gave the long suffering sigh of someone who was speaking to an idiot.  “You do know the first thing he’s going to do is visit you, right?”_

_Tony shifted his grip on the mug and breathed past the skip in his heartbeat.  “Skye…”_

_“You’re not oblivious, Tony.”  Skye insisted.  “That’s Clay’s area of expertise.”_

_“Clay is straight.”  Tony whispered, something in him finally giving way._

_Skye smirked like she had just scored a point.  “Clay’s not exactly someone who adheres strictly to binary social constructs.  He’s a very progressive guy.”_

_“Doesn’t mean he’s into me.”  Tony finally said.  He and Skye had been dancing around this for way too long.  It was getting ridiculous, this talking in code shit, so he finally just came out and said it._

_“How many times a day did you text while he was gone?”  Skye demanded._

_Tony should have known.  Skye could be every bit like that purple alligator tattoo on her neck.  When she tasted blood in the water she went right for the jugular._

_“Doesn’t mean anything.”  Tony muttered._

_“Didn’t you FaceTime, like, every night?”_

_“We’re best friends.”_

_It was like Skye was systematically pulling apart every one of his defenses, leaving him feeling smaller and smaller as each was torn away from him.  He hated feeling so open and vulnerable.  He hated feeling so exposed.  Still, Tony wouldn’t budge.  He knew where getting his hopes up would lead him.  He knew just how deadly hope could be.  So he held his silence.  It was all he could do._

_Skye stared back at him, her expression incredulous.  It was an expression Tony was not used having directed at him.  Someone behind them groused in irritation._

_Skye groaned and threw her hands up.  “Get outta my line!  I can’t stand your blatant denial of shit that is right in front of your face.  And you’re pissing off the other customers.”_

_Tony swallowed his own groan and took his coffee and shuffled off to a table by the window.  He sat down and took a long sip of the Sumatra dark roast he had ordered.  He tried to focus on the earthy, herbal taste of it instead of light blue eyes and pale skin.  He tried not to think about how happy it made him when Skye said Tony would be the first person Clay would want to see.  Because Clay was straight and after six years you’d think Tony would have gotten that through his head.  He really hated being some moping, pinning mess…because,_ **_seriously_ ** _Tony Padilla?  Get a grip._

_***_

Clay made the trip to the other side of town in record time and true to form Tony was in his driveway, head buried in the engine of the Mustang, and 80's rock music playing from his cassette player.  Clay slowed his bike down and smiled, just watching the familiar scene play in front of him.  It felt so normal.  It felt so reassuring.  At least one thing hadn't changed even in the face of all that had happened last year.  It felt grounding…like…home. 

As if sensing him Tony peaked his head out from under the hood.  His mouth inched up in the corner and he bobbed his chin upward in greeting.  "Hey, Clay." 

It wasn't much of a reaction but for Tony Padilla that was basically what passed for pure, unadulterated excitement.  Tony was always cool and collected, always so reserved.  He pulled a dirty rag from his back pocket and wiped his grease smeared hands with it.  There were fresh bruises on his knuckles; dark, plum tinted stains on his dusky skin.   

"Hey," Clay replied, sliding off of his bike and easing it onto the front lawn. 

"How was the trip?"  Tony inquired as he walked toward him. 

"Oh, you know...filled with church bingo, sweet tea, and porch rocking chairs." 

"Sounds epic." 

"You have no idea." 

And then Clay just lunged and him and enveloped him in a hug.  Not the bro-y hug boys of his generation favored.  It was a full on bear hug.  They had only done this once or twice but it seemed appropriate given that they hadn't seen each other in a month.  The first time had been when Clay had finished listening to his tape.  He still remembered Tony's hand stroking soothingly down the back of his head as he had fallen apart.  He still remembered how Tony had felt like the only thing holding him together. 

Tony actually seemed surprised by the gesture and he sort of shuddered a moment, going rigid and tense, before his arms finally came up and returned the embrace.  Tony's fingers gripped into the muscles of Clay's back.  Clay smiled and rested his chin on the other boy's shoulder. 

"I missed you."  He said. 

Tony chuckled.  "Shit, man, what happened to you in old-people-town?" 

"I'm trying this new thing where I tell the people I care about how much they mean to me."  Clay answered and made no move to pull away.  "Weather they like it or not." 

"Noted."  Tony replied and cleared his throat.  "And it's appreciated.  But I'm covered in grease and now you probably are too."  He released his hold on Clay, arms dragging slowly across Clay's waist as he did so.

Clay reluctantly followed his lead and took a half a step back.  "It's okay, I don't mind.  I mean, I sat on an airplane all day so who knows how many different kinds of mutated germs I've got all over me." 

"Well…I'm so glad you hugged me."  Tony replied, his honey-brown eyes were bright and full of laughter despite his paper-dry tone. 

They stared at each other for a long while in silence, blue eyes on brown, earth meeting sky.  Clay felt his cheeks heating up in an uncomfortable and, likely visual, manner and started.  "Oh, hey, yeah, I uh...brought you a souvenir."  He reached behind his back where he'd tucked the package away for the ride.  He bit his lip and extended it to Tony. 

Tony hesitated before he reached out and took the package from him.  "Clay, you shouldn't—" 

"Shut up.  Open it." 

Tony raised a single eyebrow at him in amusement and went to work on the wrapping, revealing a black leather-bound journal, a rearing mustang branded into the cover. 

"I bought it from this real cowboy looking guy."  Clay informed.  "You know, boots, leather vest, hat, spurs, the whole get up.  Anyway, he makes the leather himself since he owns his own ranch and he had all kinds of cool leather stuff." 

Tony ran his hands over the soft leather on the cover, his big fingers tracing the mustang. 

"And if you lived out that way I think you'd for sure be a cowboy, like, a legit cowboy."  Clay realized he was beginning to ramble but couldn't seem to get it under control.  "Besides, you do everything vintage like the neo-greaser-hipster you are and you don't seem like an iPad kinda guy so...yeah...I mean, I'm not sure if you're even a journal kind of guy but—" 

"Clay," Tony mercifully stopped Clay's motor mouth.  "it's awesome..." The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile.  "Thank you." 

Clay returned the smile but couldn't manage to hold Tony's gaze so he shifted and looked down at his sneakers as he scuffed at the sidewalk a bit. 

"Welcome." He finally managed to reply.   

There was a silence that started stretching between them, taught and charged like a bow string.  Clay had not idea what to make of it.  It buzzed through him like an electric current.  Was it just because they'd been apart for a month?  Was it always like this?   

"So, what are you doing to the Mustang now?"  Clay asked when he felt like that silence was maybe going to break him and cause him to do something stupid. 

Tony jerked his head over to the cherry-red vehicle and lead him over to peer under the hood.  They both knew Clay wasn't much of a gearhead but Clay liked listening to Tony talk about his car.  He was so passionate about it and seemed to know everything there was to know about cars and engines. 

So Clay leaned against the hood and watched as Tony took him through his latest modifications to his one true love.  He listened to the warm, low rasp of Tony's voice.  It was like melted chocolate pouring over gravel (God, Clay sucked at metaphors).  He watched as Tony's hands pointed out tubes, and gaskets and whatever else it was that went into making a car run.  Clay felt like he was tingling all over, a soft hum sizzling along the edges of his being.  He felt so relaxed and happy, like he could almost drift off into sleep.   

"Meet any girls out there?"  Tony asked. 

Clay jolted a bit and realized he'd been zoning then snorted a laugh.  "Are you kidding?  I was in bible country, Tony." 

Tony raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Okay, there was this _one_ girl."  Clay relented.  "She seemed cool enough at first…but then, one day, she got on this high horse about gays going to hell and depression being about a lack of faith and suicide being a sin…"  Clay gave Tony a sheepish look.  "I maybe, kinda, went off on her." 

Tony laughed at him but it wasn't mocking or incredulous.  It was fond and full of exacerbated affection.  "Hot head." 

Clay pretended to be offended.  "No way.  Not me.  I'm a mild mannered nerd." 

"Uh, huh…" 

Clay sighed going serious.  "Besides…it's still weird…after everything…you know?" 

"Yeah, but Clay—" 

"I'm not doing that thing I promised you I wouldn't do."  Clay assured quickly.  "I'm not gonna become some celibate monk out of some melodramatic reaction to a tragic, failed, adolescent romance.  It's just…I haven't met anyone who I’ve really connected with." 

"Sure…I get that."  Tony went back to tightening something with his wrench.  "You know, Sherrie really does like you."   

Tony reached for another wrench and Clay knew without being asked to hold the one Tony had just been holding so that they could tighten the bolt further. 

Clay groaned.  "Yeah, I know...I just can't...after Jeff...and Hannah...I know she's a good person and I know we can be friends…but I just don't think I could be more." 

"We're just a guilty as she is.  We all failed Hannah in our own ways."  Tony insisted.  "She did the right thing in the end." 

"Yeah, she did…and your right…but it's not just Hannah, it's Jeff too.  I just don’t know if I can ever look at her again and not see both of them.  That’s not exactly the best start to a relationship.“ 

Tony finally nodded.  "I hear you." 

Tony was always trying to get him into the dating world.  He was as bad as Jeff.  Did Clay really come off that desperate?  Was he really that hopeless when it came to romance? 

Looking to change the subject Clay asked:  "Speaking of romantics, how's Brad?" 

Tony tugged his wrench free and took the other from Clay and carefully avoided looking at him.  "Yeah, we…broke up." 

"Oh, shit, when?" 

"Few weeks ago." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"You never asked." 

And well shit.  Clay supposed he hadn't asked.  Not once in all their texts or FaceTime chats.  As it turned, out he might still be kind of a shitty friend. 

"I'm sorry." 

Tony shrugged and made a point of staring into his engine and fiddling with things that didn't really need any fiddling.  "It's not that big of a deal.  Relationships end." 

"Still…breakups suck…" 

"Yeah," 

"What happened?" 

"We've been having issues for a awhile.  My fault really.  I'm…not really over someone…" 

Clay frowned.  "Oh, man, Tony, tell me it's _not_ Ryan." 

Tony made that face he made when something tasted gross.  "What!?  Hell no!"  He still didn’t meet Clay's eyes.  “Someone else." 

"Is it okay if I ask who it is?" 

"It's stupid.  It something from before.  I should know better but apparently I can be an idiot sometimes too."  Finally he looked over at Clay out of the corner of his eye. 

"Is that supposed to be a crack at me?"  Clay laughed. 

"You said it.  Not me." 

"Fine, be like that."  He turned to Tony and tried to compel him to look at him.  "You know you can talk to me right?  About anything." 

"Yeah…yeah of course.  We're friends."  Tony replied, coolly. 

"Best friends?"  Clay intoned hopefully. 

"Don't push it, Jensen."  Tony returned, but his eyes were full of laughter again and his smile was forcing it's way onto his face.  He nudged into Clay's space with his shoulder. 

Clay found himself leaning into it and just managed to keep his arm from going up to pull the other boy back toward him when he drifted away.

Clay smiled and felt the blood rush up his neck and into his cheeks yet again.  "Seriously, you were there for me in a way no one has been before.  You were my rock, man.  I'll never stop owing you for that." 

"Stop it," Tony bemoaned.  "You sound like you're reciting lines from some sappy drama."  He turned to take the wrenches back to his toolbox in the garage.  "And stop giving me those damn puppy eyes!"  He called over his shoulder.

"Hey, how'd your ACT's go?"  Clay asked, suddenly remembering a text conversation they had had. 

Tony shrugged.  "Good I guess.  Doesn't really matter.  I'm not really planning on going to college." 

Clay's mouth gaped slightly.  "What?" 

Tony shook his head.  "I'm already one of the best mechanics in town.  My family owns a garage.  My future's already kinda set." 

"But don't you want more?" 

Tony's brows pulled down together and the muscles in his neck pulsed.  "More?"

Clay shook his head.  "Shit—no—that's not what I meant.  Being a mechanic is great.  It's amazing—really!  It's just...you're so smart and...well adjusted." 

Tony actually burst into a laugh at that.  "Well adjusted?"

"Yeah," Clay ran his hand through his hair.  "You could be whatever you want."

"Maybe I want to be a mechanic and own my family's shop someday."

Clay nodded.  "Then that's cool and you'll be great at it."  Clay still felt like he'd royally stepped in it so he pressed on.  "I'll—I'll just miss you when I go to college..." 

Tony smirked at him.  "C'mon, Clay, did you actually think we'd get to go off to college together?" 

"Maybe," Clay mumbled defensively. 

"And what?  We'd share a dorm and drive home together for Thanksgiving and Christmas?" 

Clay was starting to feel prickly under the teasing.  "Maybe, what's wrong with that?" 

Something left Tony's features and was replaced with something tender.  "I was never going to be able to go to the same college as you.  You're in another league of brains, man." 

"No, I'm not." 

Tony rolled his eyes.  "Always so oblivious." 

"So everyone likes to tell me." 

Tony chuckled and began cleaning up his tools and Clay automatically began to help, putting the ratchet bits into their assigned spaces.  After, he pulled out one of Tony's special microfiber cloths along with the spray bottle of whatever Tony-Padilla-patented-formula it contained inside.  He went back out to the Mustang and began spraying and wiping once Tony had closed the hood.  Clay looked over at Tony who was smiling at him.  Clay grinned back.  He wondered when they had developed this weird synchronicity they had going on.  Maybe it was just a natural side effect of what they'd gone through together.  Clay liked it.  It was comforting. 

"You wanna go see her?"  Tony asked suddenly. 

"Who?"  Clay asked, ceasing the circular wiping motion that Tony _insisted_ was superior to just plane, old wiping. 

"Hannah." 

Clay blinked in rapid fire and straightened up.  "What?" 

"Her tombstone, man."  Tony nodded his head downward to meet Clay's eyes better.  "Remember, I offered to FaceTime you a couple of weeks ago so you could see it but you said you wanted to wait and for us to go see it together."

The sudden panic began to instantly seep out of him.  "Oh, oh yeah.  Sure."

***

Clay and Tony made their way down cemetery road.  It felt good to be back in the Mustang with Tony.  Somewhere along the way riding shotgun in Tony’s car had become central to Clay’s adolescence, another thing associated with Tony that felt synonymous with home.  The smell of leather and whatever musky, spicy smelling cologne that Tony wore.  The grainy sound of cassette tapes playing through the speakers, the volume turned up as the two of them sped through the city.  It was like one big mixed tape of happy memories—or mostly happy memories—which was weird.  How was joy riding or traveling from point A to point B the thing that mattered most to Clay?  Weren’t your happiest high school memories supposed to be parties, sports games, or school achievements?  Clay supposed he’d always been odd.

Sitting there, hanging his hand out the window Clay was suddenly, selfishly happy Tony and Brad had broken up.  Now he didn’t have to fight over his seat.  Because, yes, he really did consider the front passenger seat _his_ seat.  Now he and Brad didn’t have to get into this polite standoff where they each tried to out do the other in some dance of false courtesy that thinly veiled each of their irritation.

Clay was selfish.  He knew that.  Because, he was glad he had Tony all to himself again.  That was not the mark of a good friend.  Again, he knew that.  The first step to dealing with a problem was admitting it, right?  The problem was that Clay had a hard time working up the motivation to actually change this particular problem.

Clay had serious issues.

They pulled up near Hannah’s lot.  Clay hadn’t visited this place since he’d had Courtney drive them up while he was still dead set on punishing everyone for their crimes against Hannah.  He didn’t know what had taken the Baker’s so long to get the headstone up.  He assumed with all of the insanity following them getting the tapes and all the legal shit that followed they’d lost track of it or perhaps hadn’t had the energy to do anything about it.  

He and Tony walked up to the grave in silence.  Because if there was one thing that truly made his and Tony’s relationship special it was that they were both perfectly comfortable with silence.  It almost never got awkward, even when it seemed charged and tense with unspoken things.  Sometimes they did some of their best bonding when it was quiet.

Clay wasn’t sure what he was expecting from a tombstone.  It was a piece of rock polished to a shiny, reflective finish, and engraved with a name and two dates.  But right in the center was a single line that hit like a sucker punch right to Clay’s sternum.

_What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?_

And shit.  That was the worst.  It was Hannah’s poem.  It was a line that was hauntingly appropriate given the tapes, given all of their involvement in her choice to end her life.  Because Hannah had been crying out in the only ways she knew how and none of them had heard her.  He knew the Baker’s had to be haunted by the same doubts and fears as he was.  That quote basically proved it.  

There were the tears again, hot and prickly at the corners of his eyes.  They were old friends he hadn’t seen in months.  He blinked over and over again and sniffed hard and inelegantly.  He rubbed at his eye roughly with the backs of his hands.

An arm went around his back.  A hand gripped his shoulder.  It was warm and reassuring.  It was something Tony had begun to do more of, like he wasn’t scared that touching Clay might inadvertently set him off or something.  Clay leaned into Tony and brought his own arm up in return.  He was done leaning on Tony and giving him nothing in return.  Maybe they could lean on each other, two toppled trees keeping each other standing.

“You okay?”  Tony asked after a long while.

“Yeah…” Clay sighed.  “I think so.  You?”

“Getting there.”  Tony replied.

Clay turned his head to look at him.  It was a surprisingly honest answer.  Clay took it as a sign that Tony was trusting Clay to take care of him too.   Tony looked right back at him.

“Yeah, we’ll get there.”  Clay finally said.

***

 _“I can’t_ **_believe_ ** _this.  You’re already moping.  Are you kidding me?”  Brad demanded._

_“I’m not moping.”  Tony shot back._

_“He hasn’t even been gone a day.”_

_“I’m_ **_not_ ** _moping.”  Tony repeated._

_“Here I was looking forward to this.”_

_“Brad—”_

_“I can’t believe this.”  Brad rubbed his brow.  “I am so fucking stupid.”_

_“Brad C’mon, we’ve been through this—”  He reached out to take his hand._

_But Brad jerked away from him.  “I am sick of sharing you with Clay Jensen.  Fuck, I am sick of getting his scraps.”_

_That stung and Tony’s anger flared._

_“Watch it, Brad.”_

_Brad glared, undeterred.  “You will always choose him over me.  You said when the business with the tapes was done the two of you wouldn’t be spending every waking moment together but it didn’t change a thing.”_

_“He’s my best friend,”  Tony tried to reason for what felt like the millionth time.  “We’ve know each other for years.  He needed support.  Just because he’d finished listening to the tapes didn’t mean it was over.  There were the hearings, the news coverage, it was a lot of shit to deal with.  The girl he loved kill herself.”_

_“And you?”  Brad countered.  “Didn’t you need support?”_

_“Yeah…” Tony replied unsure of what that had to do with anything.  “And you were there for me—”_

_Brad blew out a puff of air through his teeth.  “I_ **_tried_ ** _to be.  But you turned to him first.  Clay is always the first one you end up opening up to.”_

 _“He’s my_ **_friend._ ** _”_

_“I seriously cannot tell if you are that delusional or a liar.”_

_“Brad,”_

_Something seeped out of Brad, like he was deflating, his shoulders slumping.  “I like you, Tony Padilla, I really do, I think I could have maybe loved you but…I just don’t have it in me to fight whatever it is that’s between you and Clay Jensen.”_

_Tony was speechless.  His jaw muscles went slack and his mouth gapped slightly.  He knew what was happening and he knew what Brad was implying.  He knew he should be denying it.  He knew he should be fighting to keep Brad.  Brad was a great guy, a very_ **_patient_ ** _guy.  He was exactly the kind of guy you bring home to mom, the kind of guy you plan a future with.  But he was tired too.  And Brad honestly deserved better._

_Brad must have taken Tony’s silence for agreement and leaned down and planted a soft kiss on Tony’s cheek.  “Goodbye, Tony.  You’re a good guy.  I honestly hope you figure this thing out and find happiness.  You really do deserve it.”_

_“So do you…”  Was all Tony could muster.  It wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t nearly enough.  He owed Brad so much more._

_And then Brad was gone, gone from the restaurant, gone from Tony’s life.  Tony didn’t chase him.  He knew he should.  He knew Brad was probably hoping he would but he didn’t.  He felt numb and tired.  He was also a little relieved.  The tension between he and Brad since the whole tapes incident had never really ceased.  Their relationship had been limping along at best.  It was also a relief because there wouldn’t be any more arguments about Clay._

_Tony understood now why it was a terrible idea to be best friends with a straight guy when you were gay.  It was recipe for disaster.  That’s probably why so many gay guys seemed to pick best friends who were female.  It made dating less complicated.  It probably also helped if you weren’t in love with said straight, male best friend._

_Tony groaned.  He was every gay high school cliche with this shit.  Pining like an idiot for his straight best friend, neglecting perfectly good guys who weren’t straight all because he couldn’t let go of Clay._

_What the hell was it about that boy?  Tony wasn’t the only one who was drawn to Clay Jensen.  There had been Hannah, Sheri, even Skye.  Though Skye had the ability to actually move on and accept that it wasn’t going to happen.  There was something pure about Clay, something so raw and earnest, something Tony always felt compelled to protect and hold close no matter how hard he tried to resist._

_Tony thought he had learned a long time ago how to let go of things he couldn’t have.  Apparently he hadn’t._

_Tony was so fucked._

_***_

They climbed back into the Mustang but Tony made no move to start the engine.  He just held on to the steering wheel with both hands and breathed.  

“Hey, remember when we talked about doing dueling movie nights?”  Tony finally asked and he was actually smiling.

Clay smiled back.  “Yeah, we alternate nights.  One night you choose some 80’s action monstrosity from your list—”

“With no complaints from you.”  Tony cut him off.  “And then next night you choose some nerdy ass bullshit from your list.”

“And with no complaints from _you_.”  Clay finished.  

“Them’s the rules.”  Tony agreed.

“Them’s the rules.”  Clay echoed.

“You wanna start tonight?”  Tony scratched behind his ear, the one without the four star tattoos.  “I mean, if you’re tired from the trip or whatever we can start it later—”

“No,” Clay cut in quickly.  “I’m totally up for it tonight.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Tony started up the engine and they began to leave the cemetery behind them.

“Could we stop an Monet’s first?”  Clay asked.  “I actually missed the coffee and I want to say ‘hi’ the Skye—crap, I didn’t bring the souvenir I got her.”

“We could swing by your place and get it.”  Tony offered.

“No, no, we’d just be going back and forth.  I’ll give it to her later.”

“Alright,” Tony nodded.

Skye chuckled to herself when she saw them walking in and Clay was not exactly sure what she thought was so funny.  She could at least look a little happy to see him after he’d been gone a month.  Skye was still a mystery to him even after they had begun to rebuild what was left of their friendship.

“Well look who’s here.”  Skye drawled as they came up to the counter.  “You owe me lunch, Padilla.”  She smirked and leaned forward on her elbows.

Clay looked in confusion over at Tony who was rolling his eyes.

“Good to see you, Skye.”  Clay pressed onward.  “How you been?”

“Oh, just peachy.”  She finally turned her triumphant grin from Tony back to Clay.  “How was the trip?”

“Good, glad to be back.  I brought you something but didn’t realize I’d be coming by.”

Skye waved the apology away as she pushed up from her elbows.  “So what are you boys up to?”

“Movie marathon.”  Clay supplied.  “You wanna join?”

Skye threw her head back and laughed.  “Oh, no, I’m not getting in the middle of _that_.”

Clay frowned.  “The middle of wha—”

“I got to close up tonight.”  Skye cut him off and winked at Tony.  “Then I got some early morning welding I want to get done tomorrow.  Thanks though.”

Clay felt like he was missing an entire conversation.  “Oh—okay.”

“So what’ll it be?  Reunion drinks are on the house.”

“What was that about?”  Clay whispered after they stepped away and Skye busied herself with getting their drinks ready.

Tony shrugged.  “It’s Skye.”  He said it as tough that were answer enough.

And it kind of was…except Clay had been on the receiving end of Tony’s evasiveness enough to know it when he saw it.  But he decided not to push it.

Once they were in the car with coffee’s in hand Tony seemed to lighten up.

“So, my place or yours?”  Clay asked.

“Yours.”  Tony answered immediately.  “You know exactly what kind of circus my place is with all of my family around.”

“Then I guess _I_ get to pick the movie.”  Clay noted triumphantly.

Tony gave a miserable moan but he was smiling.

Clay shifted in his seat to get his hand into his pocket and retrieve his cell.  “Let me just let my parents know you’ll be over for dinner.”  

***

A few hours later, bellies full of Clay’s father’s famous lemon glazed chicken, and they were in the living room watching _Back to the Future_.  Clay’s parents had retreated upstairs giving the two boys the room and the TV to themselves.  

But Clay couldn’t seem to focus on the time traveling antics of Doc Brown and Marty Mcfly.  He kept looking down at Tony where he sat on the floor.  He kept being distracted by the feeling of Tony’s side pressed up against his leg from where Clay sat up on the couch.  His fingers kept twitching and he found himself wondering what Tony’s hair felt like, wondering if it would be hard and unyielding or maybe crunchy.

Clay felt his heart jitter around in his chest and his stomach flutter.  It was a familiar feeling.  It was one Clay had felt time and time again.  He had felt it whenever he was with…Hannah…

That made the entire experience kick up several notches, mixed it with so many conflicting feelings because— 

“You okay?”  Tony was looking up at him with concerned eyes.

“Y—Yeah, totally.”  Clay stood up suddenly.  “I want popcorn.  You want popcorn?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”  Tony replied not looking convinced.

“Great, be right back.”

Clay was a barely contained mess the rest of the night and Tony still looked worried when he left.  

***

The next afternoon Clay’s phone buzzed while he was visiting Skye at work for her lunch break.  

“Who’s that?”  Skye asked, her expression smug as she buckled on the leather band Clay had brought from the same cowboy-guy he’d bought Tony’s journal from.  

 **Yoda:** You still up for tonight?

It was a text from Tony.  Clay felt like shit for making Tony feel like he’d done something wrong, like Clay might want to change their plans.

“It’s Tony…” Clay replied, already typing.

He ignored Skye's laughter. 

 **Me:** Of course.  Pick something good.

 **Yoda:** No complaints.

 **Me:** :/ them’s the rules…

 **Yoda:** Them’s the rules.

That night Clay’s parents had laid claim to the TV because of some Dateline NBC thing they wanted to watch.  So he and Tony went up to Clay's room and used his laptop to play the copy of _Lethal Weapon_ Tony had chosen for his movie.  They had started out sitting on the floor, backs to the bed and computer in front of them.  But then Clay’s sit bone began to complain and he couldn’t get comfortable.  He squirmed a bit and winced.

“Everything alright?”  Tony asked and there was that concerned look on his face again.

“Yeah—yeah, it’s just…you wanna sit on the bed?  The floor’s kinda uncomfortable.”  Clay swallowed hard and he watched as Tony’s eyes tracked his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

Tony pulled his top lip between his teeth before replying.  “Uh, sure.”

Clay nodded, not exactly sure why his heartbeat was suddenly pounding.  He reached forward and picked up his laptop and placed it at the foot of the bed.  Then they just stood there.  Finally Clay made an awkward gesture with his hand before scratching at the back of his head.  

“Uh, you can—if you want—or you can have the edge.”  Clay finally got out.

“It’s cool,” Tony replied quickly and slid into the bed pressing up against the wall and propping up a pillow for his back.

Before he could make this any more awkward Clay climbed into the bed with him and sat back and fixed his eyes on the computer screen.

If having Tony’s side distract him while it was pressed against his leg the previous night, then having his and Tony’s body’s seamed together from shoulder to hip was like some previously unmatched level of distraction that Clay was not sure he had previously been aware of.

“This okay?”  Tony asked.  Because Tony was just that nice.  “I can scoot over or we can—”

“No—no, this is fine.”  Clay replied quickly but kept his eyes on the screen.

They went silent again, their attention on the movie.  Eventually Clay grew accustomed to the feeling of Tony against him, found himself listing against him a bit.  The rhythm of Tony's breathing was subtly rocking him.  Clay's eyes began to grow heavy and there was more and more time between each blink.  Then he was drifting off.

And that's how they managed to somehow fall asleep together on Clay's bed.  That's how Clay woke in the middle of the night to a blank computer screen and the warm weight of Tony Padilla's arm slung across his waist, the other boy's breathing coming in steady, easy waves.  Clay hummed in sleepy contentment and squirmed back closer to Tony.  Tony’s arm tightened around him and he pressed his nose into Clay’s back, right between his shoulder blades.  Clay smiled and drifted back into soft, dreamless sleep.

***

Waking up with an arm full of Clay Jensen was equal parts pure rapture and terrifying.  Being found there, still asleep by Clay’s mother, was mortifying.  

Lainie Jensen knocked twice before turning the nob and entering Clay’s room.  She was saying something about resuming family breakfast but pulled up short with an “Oh—” when she caught sight of the two boys and their night long spooning session.

Tony had been awake for at least fifteen minutes prior to Lainie’s entrance.  Fifteen minutes of shameful unwillingness to let go of Clay.  Fifteen minutes of angling his hips back in order to avoid any awkward moments involving morning wood.  Fifteen minutes of just smelling Clay, which was some kind of mix of ivory soap and a spring scented detergent, nothing special yet still intoxicating.  Nothing made sense for Tony when it came to Clay.  

“Mom!”  Clay griped and jolted out from under Tony’s arm and sat up on the edge of the bed.

Tony rolled onto his belly and buried his face in a pillow, which had the unfortunate effect of giving him a full scented onslaught of Clay’s sleep-pressed hair.  He did _not_ need that right now.  

_Think unsexy thoughts…think unsexy thoughts…like…a Ford Fiesta…a Subaru Baja…_

“Sorry!”  Clay’s mother returned throwing her hands up.  “But we never revoked the ‘no closed doors’ policy.”

“I shut it to conceal all the hardcore drugs Tony and I were doing last night.”  Clay replied sarcastically.

Lainie rolled her eyes.  “ _Very_ funny…hi, Tony.”

Tony steeled himself and turned his face and manfully managed to shift it into its most polite and reserved configuration.  “Good morning, Mrs. Jensen.”

“Didn’t know you were spending the night.”

“Wasn’t planned.”  Clay interjected as he rose and began to usher his mother out of the room.  “We fell asleep while watching the movie.”

Clay shut the door and Tony finally trusted his body to not ruin his life and sat up.

“I’ll see you both downstairs for breakfast in ten!”  Lainie shouted from behind the door.

Clay slumped his back up against the closed door and let out a long breath.  “Sorry about that.  She’s—got a thing about closed doors and boundaries—in that she doesn’t respect them…”

“It’s cool…” Tony replied, internally amazed at his phenomenal composure.

“You don’t have to stay for breakfast if you don’t want.”  Clay said.  “But, uh, you should definitely stay—if you want, I mean.”

Tony wanted to say something about their sleeping arrangement but Clay wasn’t saying anything so Tony didn’t say anything.  He just nodded.  “Sure…breakfast sounds good.”

Clay smiled.  “Primero comemos, entonces lo démas?”

Tony felt something in his stomach flutter pleasantly and smiled back.  “You’ve been practicing.”

Clay shrugged.  “You know…Duolingo…”

All things considered, breakfast was not nearly as embarrassing and awkward as Tony kept building it up to be in his head.  The Jensen’s carried on like usual, Lainie asking them both questions about the upcoming school year while Matt offered sporadic commentary from behind his tablet.  Through it all Tony couldn’t keep from feeling like he needed to assure both the Jensen’s that his intentions with their son were totally wholesome and that he was not in any way, shape, or form trying to turn their son gay.  Nope.  Not Tony Padilla.  No sir.  No ma'am.

“How far into the movie list are you guys?”  Matt asked around a piece of toast.

“Only two down.”  Clay supplied as he poured himself more milk.  “Still got the whole week to go.”  He met Tony’s eyes and gave him a half grin.

Tony felt like his heart was about to leap up out of his throat and onto the breakfast table.  

Fuck, what a very Clay Jensen thing to think.

***

Movie nights continued.

Clay kept insisting that they just use his room and his laptop from now on.  

Tony basically stopped sleeping at his house for the rest of the week and that whole weekend.

They didn’t talk about it.

It was the most rested Tony had felt since before the tapes.  Tony didn’t suffer a single nightmare that week.  

No images of an ambulance outside a quiet suburban home.  No mother with wide, shocked eyes that leaked a steady stream of unchecked tears.  

No bodybag being flung like a sack of potatoes, as though it didn't contain the remnants of an entire young life, the empty vessel of a mother’s and father’s hopes and dreams.  

No gut gripping sense of failure and guilt over not stopping a girl with a box outside his home.  

It felt like a luxury.  By the clearer complexion and brighter eyes on Clay, Tony thought that the experience might be mutual.  It was amazing.

Yet all good things come to an end and the sleepovers stopped after the designated length of their movie marathon ended.  There was no real excuse for Tony to be staying the night at Clay’s.  He had work that was piling up at the garage and he couldn’t keep putting it off with school starting up again soon.  He still saw Clay daily and it was quite literally beginning to drive Tony insane.

He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.  He thought he knew how to deal with this thing he had for Clay but the nightly cuddle sessions had changed something in him.  He could’t keep standing next to Clay without wanting to reach out and hold him.  He felt himself wanting to cross a line and there was no coming back from that line.  It would change everything.  It wold probably ruin everything.  The scary thing was that Tony was starting not to care.  No one had ever made him feel the way Clay made him feel.  He felt like he was filling up to the brim of his being and on the edge of telling Clay just how much he meant to him.  He couldn’t help but think that they were on the brink of something, he just wished he knew what kind of brink that was.

The night after their last movie night together, back in his room alone and basically dreading going to bed, Tony took a seat at his desk.  He pulled out the leather journal Clay had bought him.  He opened it and on the first page was a dopey looking stegosaurus with lazy eyes that had been doodled with a word bubble that read: “Sup, Tony!”.  Tony smirked at the drawing before flipping to a page where a brochure from Portland State University functioned as a bookmark.  On that page were a series of notes he’d been keeping regarding scholarships, and financial aide options.  

Tony would be lying if he said that Clay wasn’t a factor in his deliberations about going off to college.  He’d be the first in his family to go to university and earn a degree if he went through with it.  His mother had long hoped that her youngest son would be the one to do it.  For a long time Tony had shrugged off the idea of going to college, thought of it as a waste of time.  He had actively refused to go when Ryan had begun pressuring him to go.  Because, being a mechanic would never be good enough for Ryan Shaver.  But the idea of leaving home and pushing his boundaries both educationally and personally had become increasingly tempting.  His conversation with Clay a week prior had only added fuel to the fire.

He opened up his old laptop and went to the application webpage.  He wrote down the application deadline and all the necessary requirements in his journal.

Sometimes Tony didn’t recognize himself.

***

_A sweet, lilting laugh…soft, bouncy curls…a smile that hid the pain beneath…tears…a bathtub stained crimson with blood…sirens…_

_“Why didn’t you tell me this while I was alive?”_

Clay’s eyes shot open and he gasped for air.  He was covered in sweat and his chest felt like it was going to cave in on him from how hard he was heaving in his breaths.  For a horrifying second his esophagus felt too short and it was like his stomach and mouth were right next to one another and he thought his dinner was going to come rushing out.  He bolted up and swung his legs over the side of his bed and placed his head between his knees.  He couldn’t stop his limbs from quivering.  He felt impossibly cold.  

 _Dream induced panic attack._ He told himself.  _Your blood pressure spiked because of your elevated heart rate.  You’re okay…just breath…_

The nightmares had basically been a staple of his life since that box of tapes had been left on his doorstep.  They had begun to decrease somewhat in frequency but they more or less showed up once or twice in a week except…except when Tony had been staying the night.

Reflexively Clay’s hand reached out for his cell.  He pulled up Tony in his contacts before stopping himself, finger hovering over his friend’s name.  It was 2:14 am.  He didn’t need to be waking up Tony.  And what was he planning on doing?  Asking him to come over and crawl into bed with him?

_Yeah, cause that’s not weird…_

But just the thought of Tony sent a wash of much needed calm flowing through him.  He laid back down and pressed his nose into the pillow Tony usually ended up sleeping on while he’d been staying over, savoring the scent of him that lingered.  

_God, you are creepy!_

But he pulled the pillow in against his chest anyway and closed his eyes and pretended.  He pretended Tony was there and they were tangled up together, face to face, sharing breath, so close they could—

Then it hit him.  His eyes shot open once again.  

_Holy shit!_

Clay recognized this feeling.  He had honestly never expected to feel it again.

Moving on was something Clay hadn’t been sure he could do.  How was he supposed to love someone again?  How was he supposed to do that when the first person he’d ever loved had taken her own life?  For months after hearing his tape Clay couldn’t help but think that his love was somehow toxic and dangerous.  Then he had nearly talked himself into a vow of lifelong chastity.  

But now.  Sitting here thinking about Tony—missing having him here to sleep in his bed…missing the warm steadiness of him—he thought he might finally understand.  It wasn’t like falling.  It was more like tripping over your own feet and landing face first into the concrete.  It was clumsy and disorienting and like a fully body spazz.  It was nothing like the smooth swoop of free fall that movies painted it to be.  

Somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love with Tony Padilla.  It wasn’t something he was looking for.  It wasn’t something he’d expected.  But he realized it was something he needed.  It was something he wanted.  The trouble was that he wasn’t sure Tony felt the same.  He didn’t want to assume because Tony was gay that he would be interested in him.

But as he thought about it, a series of moments coalesced out of wrinkled grey matter of his memory.  Film clips that Clay thought he could splice together into something that revealed just what might have been in front of him this whole time.  

Tony refusing to let Clay go through the tapes alone.

Tony confiding in Clay about his role in getting the tapes and his guilt regarding Hannah when he’d told no one else.

Tony’s thumb gently spreading vaseline along the freshly opened cut on Clay’s forehead after a rock hit it during their climbing escapade. 

Tony’s vague answer when Clay asked if his dedication was because of the tapes rather than romantic:  _Sure…_

Tony’s whispered promise when Clay asked if he would help him:  _Always…_

It wasn’t irrefutable proof of Tony feeling the same but he couldn’t help but feel like he had been stupidly missing something amazing right in front of him all over again.

Clay groaned and grabbed the pillow and pressed it over his face.  He was hopeless.

***

Now that Clay was faced with his feelings for Tony he felt a little unsure of how interact with his best friend.  He told himself to be normal, that he’d likely felt this way for awhile and it didn’t have to change anything.  But in typical Clay Jensen fashion he found himself avoiding Tony.  He kept making excuses to stay away, afraid something in his words or demeanor would give him away.  It wasn’t until his mother made a comment about missing Tony after having gotten so used to seeing him around so often that he realized how ridiculous he was being.  

He finally worked up enough nerve to text Tony.

 **Me:** What you up to tonight?

 **Yoda:** Working late at the shop.  You?

Clay let out a long frustrated breath.  He needed to see Tony.  He needed to test these newly discovered emotions.

 **Me:** You eaten?

 **Yoda:** Not yet.

 **Me:** I’ll bring you some food and coffee from Monet’s.

 **Yoda:** You don’t have to do that.  I got some frozen stuff here.

 **Me:** It’s cool.  I want to.

 **Yoda:** Okay.  Thanks.

Clay picked up some of Monet’s Sumatra dark roast (Tony’s favorite) and a couple of prosciutto sandwiches (another one of Tony’s favorites).  He was mortifyingly glad Skye wasn’t working today since he really didn’t want to face her knowing glances and smug comments.  He realized that she might actually have known this about Clay all along.  He didn’t really know how to deal with this information about himself and didn’t need anyone else to complicate that now.

He took the food and coffee over to the Padilla’s garage.

When he arrived with the food Tony looked up from a welder and burst into laughter.  “Did you ride your bike here?”

“Jensen bicycle delivery, at your service.”  Clay joked awkwardly.  He pulled the two thermoses he’d poured the coffee into and shook them for Tony.

“Glad to see you didn’t balance the tray on your handle bars or bike one handed.”  Tony smirked, walking over and taking one of the thermoses and having a long, appreciative drink.  “You don’t exactly have the best track record with bicycle collisions.”

“Funny,” Clay rolled his eyes, already feeling flustered by their fingers touching when he’d handed him the thermos. 

To hide his growing blush and awkwardness he walked the bag with the sandwiches to a mostly clear workbench.  He did his best to ignore the highly insistent patterings of his heart.  He tried to be normal.

As he was clearing a space for the food he accidentally knocked the journal he had bought Tony off the bench.  It flopped onto the floor, spilling a brochure out from between it’s pages and onto the gray, oil stained floor.

Clay immediately bent to pick up the fallen items muttering embarrassed apologies.  When he picked up the brochure he read the big, bold heading out loud in numb shock.

"Portland State University…" 

Tony kept his eyes down as he screwed the lid back on the coffee and shrugged.  "Yeah…I was thinking of maybe applying." 

Clay looked up from the brochure.  "I thought you said you weren't going to apply to any?" 

"Changed my mind." 

"I'm applying to Reed." 

"I know." 

"They’re both in Portland." 

"Yeah." 

Clay couldn't stop the smile breaking out across his face.   "Seriously?" 

Tony still couldn't seem to meet Clay's eyes.  "Thought I could major in business…or maybe mechanical engineering…" 

"You could always major in psychology, become a therapist."  Clay suggested, caught up in a giddy excitement that made him feel like a child again.

Tony finally looked up at Clay and grimaced.  "Like Porter?"

" _Nothing_ like Porter.  You'd be great at it.  You've got all kinds of wisdom.  You always know what people need and when."

“No, not people…just you…" Tony's voice was low and almost sheepish.  There was that fucking silence again.  There was Clay's stupid blood running up to his stupid face.  Tony cleared his throat.  "Besides, aren't you the one who called me an unhelpful Yoda?" 

"I was mad…" Clay bowed his head wanting to do something but not exactly knowing what or how.  He wasn’t sure if he was really finally seeing the signs or if it was his special brand of delusional thinking.  “I was just saying shit.  You’re totally helpful.  So…you know, you're just, like…Yoda." 

“I still think that's a crack at my height."

"Never."  Clay replied earnestly.

Tony actually rolled his eyes.

"Hey!  So we could, like, get an apartment together—or something." 

Tony actually growled, his face going pained like he’d been struck.  "Jesus, Clay, sometimes you just _say_ these things…" 

Clay felt panic starting to seep in.  He had thought this might be going somewhere and just like always he managed to fumble it.  “S—sorry, I just thought that's why you picked Portland State…" 

"No, it _is_!  Agh…you make me crazy!"  Tony turned from him and brought his hands to his face.

Clay froze, instinctively scared to say or do the wrong thing.  But running away and not acting had never fixed anything for him before so he forced himself to walk over to Tony, one agonizing step at a time.  He held his breath and reached out to grip the other boys shoulder.  He stepped into his space, instantly aware of the other boys warmth.  He could smell motor oil and hot metal.  He needed to do something, he needed to make Tony understand.

“Tony,” he whispered as he tried to turn him around.  “Look at me…please?”

Tony took a serrated breath and glanced up at him with only his eyes.  And Clay Jensen decided to be brave.

He had had enough missed moments.  He was done adding to that list.  He didn’t have a plan.  He hand’t had enough time to picture just how this would go.  There was no time to figure it out now.  All he knew now was that he really, really wanted Tony Padilla.  It was pretty much the thing he wanted most in the world right now.

Tony turned toward him bringing them closer.  The only thing Clay could hear was the wild beating of his heart.  Then Clay leaned in and their lips ghosted over one another's, so light it would be easy to pretend that it was only his imagination.  Tony pulled away before it could be anything more.  He angled the top of his head forward to press their foreheads together.  Clay felt confused, he didn’t understand what was happening.  He was scared he’d just made a huge mistake that he had just fucked everything up.  

They just breathed for a moment,h eads together, Clay’s hand on Tony’s shoulder.  Tony’s breath billowing into his mouth so he could almost taste the coffee that lingered on his breath.  It was infecting Clay like a virus, worrying though him and down into his core until Clay thought he was going to shake apart.   

"Clay…" Tony finally murmured out.  "Please…please don't make me some experiment.  I ca—I can't." 

And Clay finally got it.  He understood what Tony was trying to say.  He slid his hand along the curve of Tony’s shoulder and up to cup the back of his neck.  His friend’s skin was warm and beginning to feel clammy.  He squeezed the muscles there lightly. 

"Jesus, Tony…no—no that's not what this is to me.  You could never be that.  You mean so much—” 

Tony let out something close to a whimper, a pained sound, as if what Clay was saying was too much.  And then his lips were pressing into Clay's desperate and fierce.  It shook Clay down to the tips of his toes.  It was so different from any other kiss he’d had.  It was so rough and consuming.  Tony was so strong and always so fucking steady.  He pushed up against Clay gripping his hips hard, fingers sliding into belt loops.  Then his tongue was in his mouth, swirling, probing, tasting.      

In that moment Clay wanted every inch of him to be touching every inch of Tony and he still wasn’t sure that’d be enough.

Tony was like wildfire: searing, powerful, and devastating.

Clay released his grip on the back of Tony’s neck to hook his arm around it and wound his other arm around his waist, sealing their bodies together.  He pushed back with his own tongue, urgent in his need to give everything to this moment.  Their cloths rasped as their bodies rubbed together insistently.  Then they were moving, Tony pushing him backward and it was all Clay could do to keep from falling over, because he sure as shit wasn’t going to stop kissing.  He wasn’t sure he could.    

“Clay?”  Tony whispered as he kissed along Clay’s jaw and up toward his ear, each one achingly tender.  “Is this?”

“Don’t stop.”  Clay insisted in a rush, turning his head to recapture Tony’s lips with his own.

They grunted as they collided with the back wall of the garage.  Tony’s hand’s were at the hem of Clay’s shirt jerking it up and over his head.  Clay fumbled at the zipper of Tony’s jumpsuit, hungry for the chance to get at more of Tony’s skin.  Tony broke their kiss as he peeled his arms out of the jumpsuit revealing at least one other t-shirt beneath.

“Why are you wearing so many cloths!”  Clay demanded miserably.

Tony laughed as Clay began inelegantly removing the offending garment.

“There’s something to be said for a little anticipation.”  Tony’s voice was hushed and playful, he slipped in close and his mouth was at Clay’s ear.  “A little _delayed_ gratification.”

Clay shivered as his flesh prickled.  He was going to lose it.  His pants were way too uncomfortable and any potential doubts about his sexual attraction to Tony (a _dude_ ) were out the window.

Then Tony took mercy, his hands going to work on Clay’s button and zipper pulling his jeans down just enough and freeing him from the denim confines.  And then Tony’s hand was around him gripping firmly and giving him one slow stroke, then another, and another.  All the while he wouldn’t stop kissing him, even as Clay gasped and moaned uncontrollably.

Clumsily, in a pleasure filled haze, Clay pulled Tony’s jumpsuit down past his waist and it slipped down around his thighs.  Clay reached for him in return but aborted in sudden fear of doing this wrong.  The angle was different from doing this to himself, he really didn’t want to screw this up.  

He felt Tony’s smile against his mouth.  Then he felt Tony’s hand take hold of his and guide it back and that turned out to be the only encouragement Clay needed.  He gave a few experimental strokes and let Tony’s pleased groans spur and guide him.

There they were, at the back of the garage, empty cars all around them, the air parched and thick with the smell of gasoline and rubber, half slumped against one another and half against the back wall of the shop as they jerked each other off trying to kiss but basically just pushing their panting, open moths together.

Clay was so focused on making sure he was pleasing Tony that his own orgasm snuck up on him, bursting insistently into his awareness in a shatter burst of sizzling electricity throughout his nervous system.  His hand squeezed and he heard and felt Tony following after him.  After a few moments they collapsed gasping and exhausted against the wall and slid to the floor.  Tony flopped his leg over Clay’s to keep him close.

Clay looked over at Tony who was flushed and glowing in a fine sheen of sweat.  Tony looked back, expression somewhere between blissed out and amazed.

“I love you.”  Clay blurted out softly.  Tony’s eyes went wide.  Clay whipped his head side to side wildly.  “Shit!  Sorry—too soon.”

Tony shook his head and smiled.  He reached out and cupped Clay’s face.  “You are _everything_ to me.  You have been for a long time.”

Clay ducked his head and felt suddenly open and raw.  Those words made him feel so fucking happy.  “Come home with me?”  

He couldn’t imagine not having Tony with him tonight.  He wasn’t sure how he was going to function day-to-day knowing that they’d have to spend more nights apart than together.

“Of course.”  Tony replied, easy as anything.  “But first, we should…uh…clean up.”  He gestured vaguely between them and Clay finally remembered just what kind of state they were in and felt very, very naked.

Tony laughed and pushed to his feet and retrieved them a roll of paper towels from a work station.

“This…was messy…” Clay observed as he began to wipe himself up.

“Sex usually is.”  Tony replied with a coy smirk.

And shit…Clay realized that he’d just had sex…or some collation there of.

As if reading his mind Tony began to outright laugh at him.

Clay couldn’t help but join in.

***

One very legitimate perk of not being out to your parents turned out to be that they asked no questions when your (very male) best friend stayed the night.  He and Tony were probably going to have to come clean at some point but it was nice to not have to deal with the questions and new rules that would likely be imposed.  So for now they took advantage of that freedom. 

The door closed and Clay was on Tony instantly, shedding their cloths and tugging him back and onto the bed.  He took control of the exchange, wanting to convince Tony with every kiss.  Wanting to wipe away any of his doubts about this not being exactly what Clay wanted with every touch.  

After, they laid in Clay’s bed, the sheet draped haphazardly over them.  Tony was propped up on on elbow while Clay was sprawled on his back.  Tony traced a lazy finger along Clay’s collarbone, while Clay took the time to stare up at his best friend.  He took in the way his black hair, usually so perfectly styled and shaped, fell in wavy locks over his forehead and across his eyes.  Clay reached up and ran his fingers through it, brushing it out of Tony’s eyes  

"You know…" Clay mused.  "I like your hair like this." 

Tony laughed.  "You already making changes?" 

Clay gave him a serious look.  "Never."   

Tony swallowed, catching the intensity in Clay's tone, and nodded. 

"But I am your…boyfriend?—wow that sounds weird—sorry—anyway, I'm allowed to have _preferences_."

“You’re allowed everything.”

“And you say _I’m_ dramatic.”

Tony smiled and leaned down to plant a kiss between his eyebrows.

Something struck Clay at that moment, something out of his and Tony’s past together.  “Hey, you…you spent a lot of time trying to get me an Hannah together.  You’ve spent the last year trying to convince me to give Sheri a chance…” He frowned.  “Why?  I mean if you—if you…”

Tony’s lips pressed together making them into a firm line across his face.  He breathed out slowly, not quite a sigh.  “I knew I couldn’t have you.  That’s what I _thought_ I knew.  I…just wanted you to be happy.”

That was like drop kick to the gut.  He just blinked up at Tony for a moment before he let out a low laugh and swung an arm around his best friend’s neck and reeled him down to him hard and intense.  When he spoke he stayed close so that their noses touched and their mouths brushed together.

“Fuck, Tony, you are without a doubt the most self-sacrificing person in the world.”  He shook his head.  “That’s something I want to change.  I want to take care of you, too.  I want to make you happy.”

Tony kissed him once on each cheek and then once on his chin before he nodded.  “You do, Clay.  You do.”

Clay felt too big for his skin.  He felt like he couldn’t possibly contain everything he felt for this guy inside of the skinny confines of his body.  There was the promise of tears in the prickling in his eyes and nose.  He pulled Tony back down and the other boy rested his head on his chest.  Some distant part of his brain was warning that they should put cloths on before they fall asleep since there was a very real risk of Clay’s mother walking in on them.  But he wasn’t willing to give up the perfect feel of Tony’s bare skin against his own just yet.

Clay felt unmoored, drifting in a vast sea of contentment that he had never dared to hope for.  As his and Tony’s breaths began to align he was achingly grateful.  It was weird to be grateful, to think that it was the tapes and Hannah that had led him here, to Tony.  Would he have found him otherwise?  It was a line of thinking he knew was dangerous to follow, a line of thinking that could poison them before they even got a chance to be.  So he tried to focus on the present, to let himself feel the love and genuine happiness.  He focused on the synchronized rhythm of their breathing letting it rock him into the velvety-black depths of sleep.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony had never even allowed himself to dare to hope for this. He’d never even let himself indulge in the fantasy of it. And now here it was right in front of him, a reality he wasn’t quite ready to trust. It was overwhelming in the best and most terrifying sort of way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, all of your kudos and amazing comments inspired me to write a little bit more. Plus, I realized that I tied things up for Clay but not for Tony and I wanted to give you all a look at how Tony processed everything that happened in this fic. So here it is, some pure unadulterated fluff to rot your teeth with. It's all for you. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the love and support.
> 
> P.S. this entire work is unbeta'd so all mistakes belong to me.

_The boy stands on the edge of a cliff.  City lights, pinprick-cinders on a canvas of black satin, spread out below him.  His body shakes with the revelations delivered by the disembodied voice of girl who he had loved.  A voice captured on shiny spools of magnetically coated, polyester plastic.  The voice of a girl he had loved in return.  A girl who had taken her own life and had become a tragic specter that so many of them now carried._

_Tony feels his body go taught with fear, sparking and tense like a live wire.  Yet all that energy does nothing to mobilize him, he stands there paralyzed, like his body has been overloaded.  This is all his fault.  He thought he was helping.  He thought he was sparing Clay.  He thought he was making it easier on him by not forcing him to hear his tape in a court room, or on social media, or on the news.  He thought he was doing the right thing, for Hannah, for Clay.  But now he know he’s failed.  He can sense it with the certainty of someone who’s trapped in the headlights of the oncoming semi.  He knows he’s made a terrible mistake.  He doesn’t know what he was thinking driving up here, he did nothing but provide Clay with the perfect place to jump from._

_“Clay, I think you need to get back from there.”  He says, unable to hide the quiver in his voice._

_Clay turns to look back at him, tears shimmering in his eyes.  “Why?  Why shouldn’t I let go?”_

**_Because I love you!  Because I can’t imagine a world where you’re not in it._ ** _His mind cries out.  But Tony cannot get those words to form on his tongue and lips.  He cannot pull them free.  He only reaches out futilely and goes to Clay, his legs too slow, his movements clumsy._

_He knows he’s too late.  He knows he’s failed in the most egregious way possible._

_Clay doesn’t hurl himself from the cliff.  He does not jump.  He just lets himself fall forward, giving up, his body limp, and allowing gravity to claim him._

_“NO!!!”  Tony screams, finally able to wrench words out of his throat, but again it is far too little and far too late.  He throws himself forward and lands hard on his stomach on the cliffs edge, just in time to watch Clay plummet to the unforgiving ground below._

_He killed Clay Jensen._

_***_

Tony woke with a full body jolt, like his body was hitting ice water.  His eyes blinked open rapidly, shuttering over and over in an attempt to chase away the fading remnants of the dream.  His heart was still pounding, the emotions holding to him even as the images began to recede back into the depths of his subconscious.  For a long, panic stricken moment, he didn’t know where he was, uncertain what was dream and what was reality.  Then his eyes began to adjust to the room that was not his own.  His mind began to register the feeling of two legs tangled with his own.  His ears picked up the even rhythm of sleeping breaths.  Then he could smell ivory soap and the synthetic smell of spring.  His eyes were finally able make out the shadowed out silhouette of Clay Jensen.  The other boys lips were parted slightly and his face was smooth and untroubled.  He looked younger.  He looked peaceful.

Tony began to feel himself relaxing, millimeter by agonized millimeter, as he took in the sight of him.  It bathed in a balm of relief to see him alive and whole and not battered and broken.  He reached out slowly, skin gliding out along the cotton sheets and taking one of Clay’s wrists gently in his hand, his thumb searching out the pulse point and resting over it lightly.  He focused on the steady beat of it, like a conga beat in a slow samba.  Tony felt himself calm even further, muscles finally unclenching, tension finally bleeding away.

Then the events of the previous evening came back to him in a full sensory rush, how everything had suddenly changed in the most unexpected way.  He remembered Clay’s lips on his, the eager and insistent way he kissed, all frenetic energy and enthusiasm, like he had had something to prove.  Tony was suddenly dizzy with it, the bed and the room pitching around him.  He had never even allowed himself to dare to hope for this.  He’d never even let himself indulge in the fantasy of it.  And now here it was right in front of him, a reality he wasn’t quite ready to trust.  It was overwhelming in the best and most terrifying sort of way.

Slowly, Tony pulled Clay’s wrist to him trying his damnedest not to wake his sleeping best friend.  He pressed his lips to the where he had been focusing on the other boys pulse, gossamer-light, thankful for the life that beat though Clay Jensen’s body.

“Mmm…” he heard Clay mumble in his sleep.  “M’here, Tony…”

And for the first time since Tony could remember he felt a few tears escape his eyes.  Because Tony’s Padilla had always had to be twice as tough as everyone else, that’s how he’d made it this far.  That meant no tears.  It had always been Clay that brought him closest to this point. 

He kissed that glorious heartbeat again, a little harder this time.

“I love you.”  He whispered against the sleep-warm skin of Clay’s wrist.

“Love you too, silly.”  Clay replied in a whisper layered in grainy somnolence.

Tony smiled and suppressed a laugh, because only Clay would use a word like “silly”.

He threaded their fingers together and closed his eyes, content in the knowledge that Clay was safe and alive, heartstruck that he also got to have this:  Clay pliant and sleeping next to him, their bodies finding one another even in slumber and whispered declarations of love in the dark.

There were things they probably still needed to talk about, things they still needed to figure out.  But right now.  In this moment.  It was wonderful and unnervingly perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there it is. This fic is done buuuut I am plotting out another set in this same...universe? Setting? Anyways I am planning on making this a series so stay tuned for more Clony goodness!
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. It means the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> Well there it is. Hope you all enjoyed it and you feel I got the voices of these two characters to be true to how they were portrayed on the show. 
> 
> I think this is done but I could definitely be persuaded to write more of these two. I don't usually like ending fics with a "now they've kissed and everything is over" cause how can that be it!? So anyway, that's me saying I'm open to suggestions.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


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